


Exitus

by DissidiumDianthus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 16:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20549387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DissidiumDianthus/pseuds/DissidiumDianthus
Summary: The war rages and spares no one.When Ferdinand sees an injured Hubert he has no time to think but only to act, running against time to save his former companion, despite the mage thinking otherwise.But does Time have mercy?





	Exitus

**Author's Note:**

> I am still playing Three Houses and haven't finished any route yet, so I was conflicted about writing this or not. However, I figured I could leave it relatively without context, focusing on sensations rather than a greater story plot.
> 
> This work has been inspired by the [painfully beautiful drawing of J.R. Doyle](https://twitter.com/theyoungdoyler/status/1169863593656901632).  
I'd also like to link you to the [work of Yevie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544680) who beat me on time with writing something related to this and explores the drawing with a different take on it.

It paws and claws and growls, it bites the ribcage and tears it open, devours the air he’s breathing leaving no trace of it behind, no particle he can ingest for himself, to retain some sanity and some life.  
He’s dying.  
Blood stains his hands, warm and slick, nauseous in its bright red, blazing dark star burning out between his very fingers. Hubert’s body is almost limp between his arms, the desperate, tumultuous race of his steed only serving as an amplifier for the maddening lifeless bouncing of the limbs he’s frantically trying to keep together.  
The sun is setting on the horizon, crimson line of gore slashing the sky as its flames are nigh extinguished and the darkness approaches, ready to engulf everything and everyone. He can feel it at the back of his neck, the freezing breath that twitches in anticipation, the thirst and impatience of its greed. Death hungers and comes to claim its prey.  
But he cannot allow it, he presses harshly against the open wound under his hand, tries to stop the flowing of life, pouring out of him, too eager to disappear into nothing, too hot to be tolerable, when compared to the coldness of the air lashing at their faces.  
«Don’t bother...» - the mage mutters, voice cracking and dying in the throat, the sound of choking as clear as his marble skin, now drained of all its colour. But he doesn’t listen, ears and senses work no longer, there’s only haste, haste, haste, there’s the impetuous beating of his heart, so infuriating in its uselessness. If he’s so eager to explode, why can’t he work for both of them?  
Teeth clench in his mouth, the camp is near. Mercedes’ there, she will help, she’ll put things right, like she always does. Oh, angel sent from the skies to aid poor, foolish humans, too caught up in themselves to see how simple it is to love. And die.  
Someone, somewhere, apologizes. Ice-cold fingers press against his hand, faintly searching for the crease of its glove and finding his skin underneath it shortly after, seeming relieved in their accomplishment. He grips them so tightly he’d be afraid to snap them, wasn’t he aware of the bony hand that’s stealing them from him, insatiable, rapacious, selfish to the point of disgust.  
The horse trips, the fall is so hard he barely has the time to protect the man he’s trying to save, ground hitting his shoulders and elbows in the attempt of breaking them. It’s no use, the earth’s singing to him, but he’s numb to pain, to the throbbing of his head where it has impacted.  
He stands, and falls, knees crack and give up under his weight, gravity pulling him to the ground, where he belongs. He screams and wails and howls like a wounded animal, bites the air with ferocity as he crawls to Hubert, arms exhausted barely able to lift his torso as he looks at him.  
And time stops. The same incessant flowing that slipped mercilessly through his fingers decides it’s good, now, to get some rest.  
The yellow irises he so tenderly loved, so pale and cold, remain set on the sky above, gold drowning in gold, their slightest hint of green lost nowhere in the firmament, fixed into eternity like a deep, red scar.  
Ferdinand hesitates, his mind goes blank. Hands, trembling, reach almost shyly to his face, they comb his raven hair back as he calls for his name so many times the world itself hushes in front of nothing but the destructive misery of shattered love.  
He moves him, shakes him, begs him. The last thing he sees is the smile that curls his lips, stone-cold and cyanotic, perfect carving sculpted forever in death.  
Then the pain comes. It rips the skin from his bones, slits his throat open as he shrieks so loudly his vocal cords could snap, so frantically he could shake the ground and tear apart the very heavens.  
But no God is there to listen, and Death feasts on the flesh of yet another departed lover, gorging itself with the pleasing taste of despair and unspoken feelings.  
The sun dies out on another foolish, unfortunate wailing human, night curtains falling on the useless, heart-wrenching clenching of a person that is no more.  
Next time, perhaps, they’ll choose differently.


End file.
